Get Me Out Of Here
by The Smiling Shadow
Summary: He hated being in there. He hated the smell of humans. He hated what he was. But how did this happen? How did a Agent learn emotions? This is the begining of it. When Smith met a woman who was related to the One. Before the Matrix, and after Reload


Get Me Out of Here  
  
"Have you ever just stood and stared at it? The marvel in its beauty, its genius. Billions of people just living out their lives, oblivious. . . I hate this place, this zoo, this prison, this reality, whatever you wan to call it I can't stand it any longer."  
  
Smith turned and listened to the woman that was speaking.  
  
They stood, overlooking the entire fake city. The people walked around beneath them, and noise came from the streets. The sun shined high in the Matrix sky, and the wind never stopped blowing.  
  
They stood on the top of the tallest building in the city. The wind blew and pushed the woman's hair in her eyes. He looked at her. She had pale skin, short black hair, and the most beautiful almond eyes. She wore a black cloak, and sunglasses so dark he couldn't see the almond eyes. He stood straight just as an Agent should. Smith's earpiece was hanging, as he stared at the woman.  
  
He should have killed her long ago. He should have fired his gun. He shouldn't have been there with her. He stared at her, as she looked off into the horizon of the Matrix. That beautiful face. . . He couldn't kill her years ago. He stared at her, his gun aimed. But he couldn't do it. . . This emotion she expressed to him, he couldn't move.  
  
"Your reality is death." He said. "You leave this place and you will die." Almost sounding protective.  
  
"Anything is better than this."  
  
"The first Matrix was designed to be perfect. Where everyone was happy. It was a disaster. Crops were lost. Your minds wouldn't except the programming."  
  
"It was too perfect, too good to be true. We were trying to wake up. We define our reality through pain and misery."  
  
There was a silence as they looked down at the people below. The people that would never know. The people that may know. The people that might become him one day. The very souls this Agent wanted to kill, and this woman wanted to save. The people Agent Smith could smell. And as he looked at the woman, he could not smell her. He only saw beauty.  
  
What had she done to him? This little human? Why couldn't he kill her? And why did he carry her back to her home that night? He should have killed her long ago, but he didn't. And now he had been meeting with her, every time he felt changed. Every time he did change. He was exposed to emotions. He was given wonderful emotions.  
  
"Don't you hate this place?" The woman asked.  
  
". . . I do not know."  
  
"It must suck not having any freedom. At least I have some."  
  
Smith looked at her, he didn't understand.  
  
"Freedom?" He asked her.  
  
"You follow the system. The Mainframe."  
  
"I haven't been following it lately."  
  
"I know, I know."  
  
She grabbed his hand, and held it tightly. Smith enjoyed the touch, but knew he shouldn't. He frowned, and looked away from the woman. He shouldn't feel this way. That was not his purpose. He shouldn't smell them, or touch her. . .  
  
"I can smell them." Smith said, still looking away.  
  
"What?" She asked, worried.  
  
"They're so many of you. . . Why do you all smell? What are you doing?" Smith asked her, he wanted an answer.  
  
"You smell us?" She asked, still holding his hand.  
  
Why wouldn't she give him an answer? He needed to know, why do they smell? Why did this happen? He needed to know.  
  
"You spread like Viruses, and I can smell every single one of you." Smith tried to explain.  
  
"Smith. . ."  
  
"Why won't the smell go away?"  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"It doesn't go away. . ."  
  
She turned him around, and made him look at her.  
  
"It's okay." She said, she promised.  
  
But it would never be okay.  
  
Smith nodded to her, his only choice was taking her word. He looked down, and held her small hands.  
  
"You know I don't have long." Smith said.  
  
"Do you ever?"  
  
Smith looked down disappointed.  
  
"I'm sorry." He said.  
  
"It isn't your fault, you must follow them."  
  
"I missed you." He said, looking up at her.  
  
"And I missed you."  
  
She stepped closer to him, and rested her head on his shoulders. Her cloak blew with the wind, as Smith put his arms around her. She seemed like she didn't want to leave him. Smith realized something was wrong.  
  
"I want out of here." She said.  
  
Smith froze.  
  
"You do?" He asked.  
  
"Yes, I really do."  
  
"Join the Resistance?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
He backed away from her, and stared at her. He took off his shades, and hers gently. He needed to see her eyes, see if she really meant it.  
  
"You get out of here, I'll never see you again. You join the Resistance, I'll see you again and I will kill you." Smith tried to make her stay.  
  
"Smith. . . You don't understand. I want freedom. I need to be free."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He had told her the truth long ago.  
  
It was true, Smith wouldn't understand the longing to be free, at least not for now.  
  
"I'll die in here. . ." The woman tried to explain.  
  
"You'll die out there." He held her.  
  
"Smith. . ."  
  
"You can't leave, you'll die. I'll kill you."  
  
"Then choose not to."  
  
"You know I can't. I can't control myself sometimes. . ."  
  
"You have to choose."  
  
"I can't. . ."  
  
He held her tighter, and felt her hair. He didn't want to let her go. He wouldn't let her leave him. He was never supposed to feel these things. He wasn't. But he needed them.  
  
"I don't want to loose you." He said.  
  
"Smith. . ." "I don't want to hurt you, like I know I will."  
  
"You'll try and kill me?"  
  
"They'll make me."  
  
"You'd never hurt me."  
  
"But they will - -"  
  
"You'll never."  
  
"If you stayed we'll be able to see each other like this. We'll be able to do whatever we want." Smith still tried.  
  
"I can't . . ."  
  
She looked at him. She saw his blue eyes, she never really had seen them that much. They were always hidden behind Agent's shades. But they were so beautiful.  
  
"Smith. . . You wouldn't understand." She said.  
  
"Help me understand."  
  
". . . I need to be free. I need to fly. Fly away from this."  
  
Smith realized there was nothing he could do, to make her stay. She was going to leave him, she was human, she could choose that. Smith held her one last time.  
  
"I'll miss you."  
  
"I'll miss you."  
  
She buried her head in his chest. Smith held her tightly as the wind blew.  
  
"I need to fly. . ." she said.  
  
"Then fly."  
  
"Promise never to forget me."  
  
". . . I promise." He said.  
  
"Take care of my son."  
  
"I will."  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I love you too." He said.  
  
They kissed, and time went still. Nothing mattered, nothing was there. But them. And then they stopped. He looked deeply into her eyes. Those almond eyes. He got one last look at her at them, then she turned. She held his hand, and slowly let go. She stepped of the building, and fell. Smith watched as she landed safely, and started running. He could barely see, but he knew she looked up at him, for one last time. And then Jones and Brown busted through the roof door. Smith looked down, and put his earpiece on.  
  
"What happened?" Jones asked.  
  
"She jumped, and got away." He replied.  
  
"Does she have any family?" Brown asked.  
  
"Yes, a boy. He is currently at his grandmother's." Smith said.  
  
"She has been contacted by the Rebels." Brown said.  
  
"She will be freed." Smith added.  
  
"We will need to perform a death for her." Brown said.  
  
"Yes. Inform the Mainframe." Jones said.  
  
"Done." Replied Brown.  
  
The three went downstairs to their car. Smith sat in the back, and watched the reality go by him. He saw the place he had once eaten with the woman. They had good noodles. And then he turned to face the front.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Weeks later, there is a funeral for the woman. Her bodied never recovered, she was presumed dead, people gathered in a church. A man in a suite stood in the back. He watched as people left. And saw a small boy, couldn't have been older than four, crying in his seat.  
  
"It's ok Thomas, it's ok." The man next to him said.  
  
Smith looked at the child.  
  
"You have your mother's eyes, Thomas." He whispered to himself.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Seven Years Later. . .  
  
Smith turned with his gun pointed out. He chased the rebel, and shot his gun. He missed, and started running again. He ran and ran, through the old building with green peeling paint and old water stains. He could here a phone ring, and saw the rebel. They raced to the door of the room 303 with the phone. He made it first and grabbed the woman rebel. She didn't seem scared of him. In fact she looked at him and smiled.  
  
"Don't you hate this place?" she asked. "It must suck not being free."  
  
The Mainframe sent him commands, kill her. Over an over, on the earpiece the commands to kill. But Smith didn't. He knew who she was. He knew what he had done with her. But all those memories seemed so far away. He couldn't let her live, not this time. She was not just a human now, she was a rebel. They were on opposite sides of a war.  
  
But he loved her.  
  
"I know you're different from them, Smith. I know you hate it here. I know you want freedom. You were always my favorite agent, even before I met you. I always loved your blue eyes." She said, sensing what he was going to do.  
  
His grip on the woman loosened. She reached over and took off her and his shades and his earpiece. She was like from a dream. Her cloak and almond eyes, her hair, and pale skin, even the sunglasses she wore, it reminded him of something. Something Smith just couldn't grasp. He was remembering the love he had felt so long ago.  
  
"Thank you for taking care of Thomas."  
  
"I missed you." She said.  
  
She was from a dream.  
  
"I missed you too." He said without realizing it.  
  
The woman smiled. She knew what he had to do. If he didn't kill her. . . She always knew it would come down to this, but if she had to die in this war, she wouldn't have it any other way.  
  
"Kill me. . ." She whispered to him.  
  
Smith stared at her, and shook his head slowly. But she only smiled at him.  
  
She leaned over, and they kissed.  
  
Then Smith shot her. He saw her eyes look at him. Her almond eyes, all so familiar. He just couldn't place her. He just couldn't, all he could do was feel something inside him. Whatever it was inside him, it felt good. His gun still in his hand, he lowered his arm and looked at the woman. She looked up at him. She smiled. He held her in his arms, and stared at her. Blood dripped from her chest, and stained Smith's suite.  
  
"I knew you would keep your promise. I love you."  
  
Smith dropped his gun, and held the woman closer. Her mouth now filled with blood. He held up her chin, and looked at her eyes one last time.  
  
"I love you too."  
  
The woman's eyes closed and she was dead. And Smith felt the emotions of pain. Emotions he would fell for the rest of his life. He tried to get rid of it, and separated himself from that woman. He tried to forget her, and stopped seeing her son. But the pain only worsened. And the smell wouldn't go away.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Years and years later. . .  
  
"Have you ever just stood and stared at it? The marvel in its beauty, its genius. Billions of people just living out their lives, oblivious. . ."Smith said standing in front of the window.  
  
He told the others to leave him with the ship captain.  
  
"I'll be truthful with you, Morpheus." He said taking off his earpiece and shades. "I hate this place, this zoo, this prison, this reality, whatever you wan to call it I can't stand it any longer. . . It's the smell. If there is such a thing. I must get out of here. I must get free." Without even knowing it Smith pictured a woman with almond eyes, black hair, and pale skin. He remembered.  
  
And then Mr. Anderson came to the rescue. Hatred inside Smith grew as he thought of him. Smith chased Mr. Anderson. The man ran as the program chased. And Mr. Anderson ran into a building Smith had been in, but didn't remember. He ran down the same hallways, the same turns, the same walls, all to the same room, 303.  
  
Mr. Anderson opened the door, and Smith shot him. He looked down at his bleeding chest, and stared at the program. Smith saw Thomas A. Anderson's almond eyes. His eyes seemed like they were from a dream, so familiar. His eyes were something he couldn't grasp. Thomas stared at him with those eyes, and gave him a look that Smith had seen before with the same eyes. Smith just couldn't place his eyes. He couldn't seem to pull the trigger on his gone any longer. Thomas just stared at him. And then something hit Smith. He saw a woman stand in front of him, she had almond eyes, black hair, and pale skin, just like Thomas. She had in her hands the sunglasses that Thomas wore. She wore the cloak that Thomas wore. She looked at him, and then Thomas stood there.  
  
It can't be, Smith thought.  
  
Smith then pulled the trigger. Thomas hit the wall, just where his mother did. His blood covered hers, and he died. Smith stared at him, and saw the woman. He coughed as he said, "Goodbye Mr. Anderson." He turned, trying to forget.  
  
Smith turned his back, and walked away from Mr. Anderson's dead body. He turned his head. Then Thomas got up. Thomas was Neo. Smith looked back, and stared at that man with those eyes. Smith couldn't believe it. It wasn't possible. Anger. Smith felt anger, and tried to attack. Smith was too slow. Smith failed in killing Thomas A. Anderson. Neo lunged at Smith, and went inside him. Smith could feel that man inside him, cutting him open, exposing his code. He could feel Mr. Anderson rip his code away from him, make the rules go away, make the Mainframe go away. Smith was free. Just like he always wanted. Just like he always needed. Just like that woman.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
6 months later. . .  
  
"I remember you now." Smith said holding a picture of a woman with almond eyes, black hair, and pale skin. She held in her hand, sunglasses that Neo wore, and wore the cloak that was Neo's.  
  
"I tried to forget you, I'm sorry. I miss you now. I loved your eyes too. . ."  
  
Smith was alone. No copies, no one, alone in the building that his love and Thomas A. Anderson died. He sat, his legs stretched out, his shades in his pocket, and his tie loosened. He looked at the blood on the wall. Then back at the picture.  
  
He was always alone now. That woman that changed him, and made him feel. The woman that made him smell, that made him what he was today. The woman, whose son freed him. She was gone, and he was left alone.  
  
"Thomas has turned out well. Although his name is Neo now. He has your eyes. Black hair like you, pale skin, wears the same sunglasses, he even wears almost the same cloak as you. He's The One, my love. He can do extraordinary things here. Stop bullets in mid-air, his fighting skills are unbelievable, and he can. . . fly just like you always wanted to. He's a great man. He's an equal."  
  
Then Smith turned to the blood.  
  
"I'm sorry I have to kill him. I have to. I have to. . . I'm sorry."  
  
Smith sighed, and gripped the picture.  
  
"I'm free now, just like you were. The Mainframe is gone. I don't even wear an earpiece anymore. I'm free, just like I always wanted. I suppose I should thank your son for that. He freed me. Freedom is everything you said it would be."  
  
He looked up at the blood on the wall.  
  
"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'm so sorry. . . I miss you so much. I didn't mean to kill you, if I had only known. . . I'm sorry. . . If I had only let you answer the phone. . . I'm so sorry."  
  
He wiped his face, and banged his head on the wall.  
  
"I hate this place. I still smell it. I understand everything now. I remember. Every single word you said. I understand now. I hate this place, just like you. I want out. But I guess I can never do that. I can't get out of here. But I can make it mine. That's what I'm trying to do. Make it mine. But it will always still be this place. I hate it here. I'm free, but not completely. I'm still a prisoner here. I want to be in the real world. I don't care about the machines, I just want out, like you. I understand. Get me out of here. I need to get out of here. But I suppose I can never do that. I am still a program. But I want to be free. Freedom. I need it. Just like you did."  
  
He looked at the picture again. He remembered the woman, he remembered holding her, and kissing her. He remembered her smile, and he remembered being happy.  
  
"I miss you so much. I love you."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Purpose Mr. Anderson, purpose."  
  
~~~ From a program named Smith 


End file.
